


the advice you give is hard to follow

by Whoops_heck



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Fukuroudani, Growing Up, Homophobia, Mental Health Issues, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, akaashi narator, akaashi's first year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-15
Updated: 2017-07-15
Packaged: 2018-12-02 15:23:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11512140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whoops_heck/pseuds/Whoops_heck
Summary: Akaashi's father was the type of man who spoke his mind and whether you wanted it or not gave you advice. Advice, advice, advice. These words that most would forget grind their way into Akaashi's mind as he tries to be the perfect son. If he follow his father's advice to then maybe he'll be proud of him, maybe he'll be worth something, maybe he'll be happy.OrAkaashi's homophobic dad gives a lot of advice and our pretty setter has an anxiety disorder





	the advice you give is hard to follow

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, hope you enjoy
> 
> Warning there is done homophobia and slirs and stuff, plus some heavy topics

My father once told me that if you don't know what to write just start off with 'Once Upon a Time' and see where it takes you. My father said that no writer was ever satisfied with that beginning and without realizing it might actually come up with something worthwhile. All my life I've trusted his advice, but perhaps that's where I went wrong.

Although a sentiment about writing stories is very different than one's actual life.

You see that's the thing about advice, it's a dangerous thing. Some people will follow what you say blindly, and other's well... won't. So when the man I knew to be my father said, "I don't care what you do in life, so long as you don't turn out like that." 

His last word held hatred and disgust. Bottle in hand, he motioned towards the news on tv dispalying a pride parade.

"Dear god Keiji, never turn out like that."

And let me tell you, that stuff sunk deep. Like harpoons into my skin they carved away at my flesh and left a horrible feeling in my bones.

'Never turn out like that'

The words followed me around all my life. From that very moment, when he uttered those words I strove to be perfect. I pushed myself to get the top marks in classes, to participate in sport, to become everything my father dreamed for me to become.

I was eight when I had a panic attack in my class and thought I was going to die. I hadn't studied for a test. It was a simple vocabulary quiz but I was a third grader. 

I was a third grader and one of my friends saw me at the library.

I was a third grader and for the first time ever someone invited me to come play with them.

I was a third grader when I failed a test for the very first time.

I was nine when my father first said he was proud of me and it felt like nothing could ever tare me down. It seemed as if I was floating out in space surrounded by nothing but the warmth of stars burning somewhere universes away. The need to impress him became my one and only priority. If only to feel like this once again.

I heeded his advice like they were the holy book. Like they were words straight from the mouth of god, to me they were.

'Don't chew with your mouth open'

'Wait to be addressed before talking'

'Don't bother with trivial things like friends, will friends get you unto college?'

'Pay attention'

'Don't be so brash'

'Shut up!'

The words might as well have been printed on the inside of my eyelids. They were all I thought about, all I cared about. He was right after all.

My friends left me.

I knew they would, but I didn't need them. We were going to different high schools and I never really liked them after all. At least that's what I tell myself. Because he tells me.

And whatever he says is true, because my father would never lie to me.

'Lying is worse than murder, if you ever lie to me I'll make sure it's the last thing you say'

By the end of middle school I was the one kid from my class to get into a top tier high school. Fukurodani. My father was happy so I was happy, and that was that.

At first my father was reluctant to allow me to join a sports team but he had said that I wasn't as active as I used to be. That I could lose some weight if I were on a team.

So I joined.

I signed up to try out alongside five other jittery first years who all seemed like they might just pee there pants.

'First impressions are everything, don't screw it up'

A boy approached and in the inside I was just as shaky as the others. He was strong, powerful, charming, everything I wanted to be. Needed to be, in order to please my father.

He was... handsome?

'Never turn out like that'

The words flashed through my mind so quickly I could barely process what the man who I found absolutely, in no-way whatsoever attractive, had been saying.

'Come on Keiji, don't mess this up'

I wouldn't, there was no way I could possibly be punished for this. It was just a thought, a tiny whisper of a thought. Don't act on it, don't think on it ever again. Come on Keiji, you can do this.

"Pleasure to meet you recruits! My name is Bokuto Koutarou and I'll be warming you up for today.

I needed to be the best,for my dad. I wouldn't let some random boy ruin all my hard work.

'Never turn out like that'

I would never turn out like that. I never can turn out like that. Not even if my heart sped up and my palms got sweaty. I could blame it on nerves.

'If you present yourself as nervous, you present yourself as weak'

I could blame it on anything other than what it actually was. 

Another look over at the leader of our warm ups and I think that perhaps I should never have joined the volleyball team to begin with.

\----

I'm in my first year of high school when I get a 4.0 gpa.

I'm in my first year of high school when I'm elected to student council.

I'm in my first year of high school when I'm fighting for a starting spot as a setter with a seasoned veteran.

I'm in my first year of high school when I lose.

I watch helplessly from the sidelines as another boy does the job I couldn't. Giving the players water and towels and anything they need because I wasn't good enough. I would never be good enough. At least not with the amount of hours I was putting in.

Just regular practices wasn't going to cut it.

In the morning before school there was practice at 6 that went until the start of classes, 8. So two hours in the morning. 

In my free period I attend student council meetings half the time and did homework the other half. No time there.

At lunch I eat and study as best I can. Without food I can't learn properly and without studying I can't be on the honor role.

That leads me to the end of the day, it's 3 and I have to pick up my sister from her school. We drive back to our house and I head back to school for volleyball practice. Another two hours.

I've got thirty minutes to get to work which last until 8 and then I'm doing homework until around 11. That leaves from the hours of 12 in the morning to 6 to sleep, socialize, eat, and over all function as a human being.

I would say if I could pack in more than I would. There's always weekends.

'Spend your weeks learning and your weekends studying what you learned. If you don't study, how will you retain the knowledge?'

While pulled into the calendar in my mind I realize with much panic that morning practice has already started without me. I was being left behind.

I'm late and everyone is going to hate me. No they won't even consider me for setter. They'll find someone better. Someone smarter. Someone stronger. Someone who isn't like... That. Who can properly socialize and hold conversations. Someone who...

'Never turn out like that'

Isn't me.

 

I arrived to practice fifteen minutes after it had been scheduled to begin. Whilst arriving I was drenched in sweat from running and anxiety. My gasps for breath was rooted both in exhaustion and panic.

I slammed open the doors and fell to my knees.

My lungs were closing up and i tried so hard to suck in a breathe. It felt like nothing was working. It felt like... like I was drowning. Being sucked under by waves of discomfort and thoughts and

Advice.

Through all my gasping and sobs I heard voices, muffled by the screen of unbalanced neurotransmitters. A hand was on my back and it felt so heavy.

"You're ok, everything is going to be ok. Just keep breathing. You're doing great. Come on 'Kaashi. Come o-on."

The voice stuttered to a halt when my eyes shot open and I came to the terrifying realization that the entirety of the Fukurodani volleyball team was staring down at me. The person continued to rub circles into my back and I just stared wide eyes for a moment, feeling entirely too vulnerable. What would they think now?

Seeing their image if perfection torn apart by fifteen minutes.

I was fifteen minutes late and it took a half an hour to calm me down.

Fifteen minutes,

and I ran.

 

Stumbling out of a circle that trapped me like a cage I burst into a dead sprint. My feet like lightning against the concrete I ran home as if my life depended on it.

I was just going to get to school a little late. Or at least skip morning practice. Ok, that would be fine. I could cool down from that and then everything would be alright. 

Except for it wouldn't because,

'Being late is for people who don't respect their elders time. Do you want to be seen as a little punk who'll drop out of high school and never be seen again?'

So, though it felt like my feet were tied with bricks, I made the trek back to school.

'Stand up straight, I don't care if you're tired'

'Walk with confidence son, sometimes that's all you can do'

'Din't loiter around aimlessly, of you have somewhere you need to go then just go already'

I shivered and cursed myself because I did not have time to get sick. And though cold and long the walk eventually ended with doors not long since slammed open. This time with about as much energy as a bird with two broken wings, I opened the door.

I let my snapped wings hide behind my back as if they were nothing more than a bruise, for fear of burdening someone with what was clearly wrong.

'Never turn out like that'

Haiko, a third year, stepped forward and I took a half step back scolding myself for doing so.

'Don't show anyone they scare you'

Bokuto's voice rang through the still gym like bells through a church. Simple and clear, he said with as much certainty as I had entered this gym, "Akaashi?"

Bowing my head I mumbled through an apology and moved to sit against the wall. No one said anything and I kept my eyes to my shoes.

Reluctantly the bouncing of balls and squeaking of tennis shoes returned to the court.

 

I took my father's advice every day of my life and for once I thought of something more. I thought of freeing my mind of all the horrible things my father has pushed into there.

'Never turn out like that'

I wanted to turn out 'like that'. I wanted to be happy. I wanted so badly to be happy, but no.

No I simply could not.

I must straighten my back and darken my gaze.

'If someone breaks you, don't take long to glue the pieces back together'

"Akaashi?"

It was Bokuto and he sat himself next to me in the wall. I expected pity and I expected a sad look in his gaze. Something from a teen drama. Even in the corners of my mind I thought that maybe he's kicking me off the team.

"How long?"

"How long what?"

"Have you been having panic attacks."

"Since I was seven."

"Panic disorder?"

"Something like that."

He paused, hesitating slightly and once again I thought Perhaps this is his way of getting me off the court. 

"We're your teammates. You have to tell us this kind of stuff."

He seemed worried, disappointed even and it churned at the very pit of my stomach. It punched my ribs out one my one and made my heart into something unrecognizable. It was like I could physically feel his underwhelmed and disgusted gaze. Though my gaze stayed on my shoes I could feel his eyes on me and I could barely hold a steady breathing rate.

'Apologies don't always make things better but it can't hurt'

You see the thing is advice is either good or bad and most of the time I can't tell the difference. 

"I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize you know, it's not your fault."

A memory flashed in my mind and within a millisecond it was gone again. A woman I can only recall in the deepest of memories holding me tight and saying those same words. 

'It's not your fault'

It's not my fault.

"I'm still sorry."

I don't think before the thought pops out anyway.

"Why?"

"Because I don't like being a burden, because it's not professional to cry infront of others. Let alone have a breakdown. It's unbecoming of me."

"Maybe it is, but we'll be here either way. So you can let us know what's going on or not. We'll stick by your side either way."

He smiled at me and the only thing I could think to do was turn to him, he smiled and said in almost a whisper,

"Besides, I'm gay and bipolar. You're not weird by any means. At least not with us."

As soon as the word leaves Bokuto's lips, the one I'm too scared to say even when it's dark out and no one's awake. Even on a pad of paper that no one will ever read. Even in my head in private thoughts, as soon as Bokuto says gay I realize that maybe I could find friends who accept me. Maybe I could finally take my own advice. Maybe I could -

'Never turn out like that'

-maybe I could turn out exactly like that. And maybe everything would be alright.

'If I ever find out that you're a faggot you will not stay in this house do you understand?'

I stayed silent and my eyes never did quite leave the comfort of the floor, finding much safer than golden eyes. If I looked at him then I'd have to explain myself. He said I didn't have to but I know better than to believe that. My father told me that there are few thongs worse than leaving someone disappointed. I would disappoint Bokuto. I couldn't do that.

So my gaze stayed on my shoes and my heart stayed where it belonged. Thumping slowly and constantly deep within my chest.

"Bokuto?"

"Yah?"

"Thank you."

He smiled and I could feel it.

"No problem, we've got to get to class anyway."

"Ok," I hesitated for a second, unsure as to continue or not, "Sorry for holding up practice."

"You don't have to apologize for this ok? I have panic attacks, you have panic attacks, even Komi has them on occasion. So don't worry, if this happens again we'd react the same in a heartbeat."

My heart ached and I just wanted so badly to be held and cry into someone's shoulder. Even if I shouldn't show emotion or rely on other people. Despite all that it felt like Bokuto was telling the truth. It felt like he -

'People lie, don't trust what others say Keiji'

It felt like maybe I shouldn't believe him. No, no, he was so sincere. It had to have been the truth.

"Thank you Bokuto, thank you so, so much."

And all Bokuto did was smile one of those smiles that stretched your cheeks and made it feel like everything was going to be alright.

And for once, I believed it was.

**Author's Note:**

> Comment, kudo, boomark if you so please, hope you enjoyed


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